


A Slice of Stranger Pie

by glitterpile



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Baking, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Parallel Universes, Prompt Fic, Secret Admirer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 13:31:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16064147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitterpile/pseuds/glitterpile
Summary: The vision of the handsome stranger is not a permanent event. He hasn’t confirmed it yet, but he seems to only see the man when he’s had a particularly terrible day at work and comes home positively dripping with anxiety and homesickness. Perhaps he’s at the edge of a mental break, after all. Yuuri decides the best thing he can do right now is ignore it.That’s easier said than done.[Or: the one where Viktor licks a spatula a lot, and Yuuri wishes that were him]





	A Slice of Stranger Pie

**Author's Note:**

> Done as part of the 18+!!! on ICE Discord prompt event! Using the random prompt generator, I chose the following combo:
> 
> Setting: Bakery [amended]  
> Genre: Hurt/Comfort [skipped]  
> Trope: Parallel Universes Switching/Colliding  
> Prompt: Secret Admirers  
> Kink: Oral fixation or fetishisation [kept subtle]
> 
> Thank you to Chel for the support! >w<

Yuuri finishes toeing off his shoes and thunks the back of his head against the door, groaning. He’s barely finished unpacking in his new apartment a few days ago and he already feels like packing everything up again and shipping his entire life back to Hasetsu. Today was the third day in a row that he’s had to stay back late at work, trying to fix the stupid mistakes he made in the morning due to stressing out over yesterday’s mistakes. He clenches and unclenches his fists and, with a heavy sigh, trudges his way to the living room. Yuuri pulls out a chair and drops into it like a sack of flour, forcing his fingers under his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.

Something moves out of the corner of his eye. Yuuri turns his head and - there’s a person. In his kitchen. What. 

Yuuri feels frozen to the spot, mind blank for several seconds before he croaks out a queasy “Hello?” There’s no response, or even any indication that he’s been heard. The man doesn’t seem to be acting suspicious, either -- apart from the fact that he’s in Yuuri’s kitchen, in the general sense, of course. He seems to be stirring something in a bowl, a bowl that Yuuri is almost certain he doesn’t own. 

A full-body shiver jerks Yuuri from his spot, and he runs to the kitchen, ready to do - something, he’s not sure yet, he can’t think that far - and as he turns the corner he preemptively flinches. He has to blink a few times, breathing heavily through his mouth at the fact that his kitchen is… spotless. 

There’s no man. There’s no bowl. Everything is exactly as he left it. He walks in and looks out to his living room through the pass-through window, and stares blankly for a few moments at the chair he was just sitting in.

Yuuri forcibly beats down the urge to start looking in all the cupboards and the tiny gap under the fridge, in case there might be a full-grown man in there somewhere, squeezed in and ready to surprise him again like a horrible jack-in-the-box. The words “gas leak” float questioningly through his mind, for some reason in Mari’s voice, though he cannot smell anything out of the ordinary either. Perhaps he’s losing both his mind and his sense of smell? 

Yuuri slowly backs out of the kitchen and heads towards his chair, staring towards the kitchen and almost tripping over his own feet when he sees the man again through the kitchen pass-through.

He’s still there! He’s… still there? Wait, no. He’s not. He can’t be. 

Yuuri tentatively raises a hand when the man turns in his direction; when there’s seemingly no effect, he waves his arm as obviously as he can. No response - it’s like the stranger is just glancing straight through him. 

Yuuri rushes back to the kitchen entrance and stares at the blank space in utter lack of comprehension, then walks forward and circles the small space twice, mind churning. He can’t see the stranger here… but surely he’s not going crazy? It seems so weird to be hallucinating attractive strangers in his own kitchen only from one particular spot. Hallucinations don’t work that way, do they? Yuuri chews on a nail as he pulls his rice cooker out of its corner and into the middle of the bench, where it would be obviously in the man’s way, then runs back to the living room.

The man is there, in his kitchen. The rice cooker is nowhere to be seen on the bench through the window. Yuuri goes back to the kitchen one more time and confirms that his rice cooker is untouched, in the spot where it should be. 

Yuuri nods to himself and decides the best solution to this appearing-man and disappearing-rice cooker problem is to go to bed three hours earlier than normal and cover his head with his blanket.

~ * ~ * ~ 

Yuuri tells nobody about this strange vision - an involuntary stay in a mental health ward is absolutely the last thing he needs right now. Instead, he spends the next few weeks watching his kitchen obsessively from his vantage point in the living room, flinching at any noises and small movements around him, and avoiding spending time in the kitchen itself for longer than it takes to boil a kettle for instant noodles or tea.

What he finds is this:

The vision of the handsome stranger is not a permanent event. He seems to only be visible through the wall window, and not when Yuuri is in the kitchen himself. Also, he’s not there all the time - most of the day Yuuri can just see his normal kitchen, as expected. He hasn’t confirmed it yet, but he seems to only see the man when he’s had a particularly terrible day at work and comes home positively dripping with anxiety and homesickness. Perhaps he’s at the edge of a mental break, after all. Yuuri decides the best thing he can do right now is ignore it.

That’s easier said than done.

For one, the man always seems to be baking in these visions. Nothing fancy - Yuuri apparently doesn’t have the imagination for Pinterest-worthy fondant sculptures or buttercream flowers. All he sees coming out of his oven in the man’s cute pink oven mitts are lopsided muffins and undecorated cookies. But oh! They look so good. The perfect golden edges, the rising steam, the glints of crystals on the ones rolled in sugar before baking… Yuuri can feel himself gaining weight just from looking at them. 

Even uncooked, the baked goods look scrumptious. Yuuri has never understood the compulsion to eat raw cookie dough before, but he’s starting to feel tempted. Every time the man bakes, he licks off the spatula afterwards until there’s not a speck of batter remaining. Sometimes the spatula stays in the man’s mouth, dangling from pink lips while he pushes back his silver fringe, and then the stray smears left at the corners of his mouth vanish under absentminded swipes of a tongue. Yuuri watches mixing bowls get scraped with unnerving fascination, and whisks with remnants of whipped cream lovingly laved over when a cake is safely ensconced in the oven. He can’t stop staring at the curve of that mouth, a finger tapping on it as a cookbook is perused in thought.

Yuuri can try to tell himself that he wishes these visions were confined to his wet dreams, but he knows he’s lying when he drags one of his stools up close to the kitchen window as a permanent viewing seat. 

From the closer vantage point, Yuuri can see more of the kitchen, and that’s when he realises the man has a dog. For a moment his heart breaks all over again at the thought of Vicchan; but the dog his brain has conjured into these visions is much bigger, and looks a little different, so Yuuri is able to enjoy the dog’s presence without too many painful pangs. Plus, the dog’s cheeky antics reveal an additional secret - the normally cold, thoughtful face of the baking man transforms into a gorgeous warm smile whenever she is near and Yuuri’s heart skips a beat every time. 

Over time, Yuuri gets into a routine of coming home, throwing together a quick meal, and then sitting on the other side of the kitchen window for most of the evening. Somehow, the simple actions of mixing and shaping and opening cupboard doors in front of him makes him feel settled, like pieces of his mind are being slotted back into place after their daily shakeup. It’s better than trying to find an online stream for something similar, even - there’s no jarring comment section or performance here, nor people trying to change things up too much and breaking him out of the comfortable bubble he’s discovered. 

Comfortable is honestly the right word for it. Yuuri tends to let his mind drift on these evenings, lulled into soft domesticity with a constant undercurrent of tension in his belly from that face, and those lips, and those arms with the rolled up sleeves, and it’s really a foregone conclusion, when a used bowl right next to kitchen window has a spatula run around it to collect up the glistening mixture remnants to be licked off, that Yuuri swipes some from the edge with a finger and puts it in his own mouth.

The sweetness and vanilla burst onto his tongue at the same time as an ear-splitting shriek rings out and Yuuri, startled, topples sideways off his stool in a panicked tangle of limbs. 

He’s trying to figure out which way is up amidst the instant throbbing pain in his hip and shoulder when he hears retreating, then returning footsteps. 

“How are you doing that?!” 

Yuuri squints up awkwardly to see the man looking down at him, head sticking out over the ledge of the kitchen pass-through.

“Uh… what?” 

“You’re not in the living room! Where did you come from? You…”

Yuuri can see the exact moment the man looks past him to the rest of the room - his eyes widen, and he interrupts his rambling to disappear back into the kitchen. Yuuri scrambles up with a wince and sees that the man has backed up, pressing against the far cabinets with his whole body, looking like an animal on the verge of realising it’s trapped. 

“That’s not my furniture. Where’s all my furniture?!”

Yuuri stares, completely disbelieving. It’s been months, and _now_ the man can actually see him? For the first time? 

“What’s going on?!” Yuuri jolts at the man’s words.

“You… you can see me now?”

“ _Now?_ ” The man’s eyes narrow. “Have you been watching me? What the hell?”

“It was hard not to, you’re in my kitchen!” defends Yuuri.

“ _Your_ kitchen? You’re in my living room!”

“I think we can only see each other through this window. Um, if I walk into my kitchen you’re never there. And it might be the same the other way around?” 

The man runs a shaky hand through his fringe and storms out of the kitchen, Yuuri leaning his head all the way in to watch him go. He spots the poodle at the entryway, tilting her head at him and giving her tail a slow, questioning wag. Yuuri jumps back when the man strides back in and leans out through the window beside him, thoroughly inspecting Yuuri’s apartment. 

“...this is insane.” 

Yuuri silently nods in reply, gulping when the man’s blue gaze shifts to him, looking him up and down. 

“So, are you real, then?” 

“Are you?” Yuuri isn’t sure where his confidence has suddenly reappeared from, but he mentally grasps at it like a drowning sailor. 

“Hmm-” 

They both flinch when the oven turns off with a _ding!_ , and Yuuri watches as the other man grabs his oven mitts and pulls two trays out of the oven, working quickly to flip out the spongy contents onto tea towels and carefully rolling them up. Yuuri looks down to see the dog has walked into the kitchen as well, panting happily at them both. He isn’t sure if he’ll get another chance, so…

“Can I say hi to your dog?” blurts out Yuuri.

“What?” the man turns around. “Oh. I… guess so. She’s friendly.” 

Yuuri smiles and reaches his arm as far as it can go, and is rewarded with a lick and a big fluffy head leaning into his hand for scratches. 

“Ah, she’s so sweet! I used to have a poodle too, but he was a toy. What’s her name?”

“Makkachin. ...and I’m Viktor.” Viktor folds his arms, watching them carefully.

“Oh! Um, I’m Yuuri. It’s nice to meet you both.”

~ * ~ * ~ 

“So where do you go, when you’re not here?”

It’s awkward, at first, but when Yuuri asks if he can keep watching him bake, Viktor begrudgingly agrees, and so Yuuri’s routine continues almost unchanged, with the exception that now they’re occasionally making conversation at the same time and Yuuri gets to pat a cute dog without having to go out to the nearest dog park. He gets flustered a lot, but he’s coping. Barely. He tries to answer the latest question like someone who isn’t distracted by Viktor’s... everything.

“Well, I guess I’m just here? At home? I haven’t figured out why your kitchen only appears on some days, yet. I stay late at the dance studio sometimes, but apart from that I’m pretty boring.” 

“Dance? What sort?” Viktor looks up at him, and Yuuri does his best to not cringe as he feels himself being appraised.

“Mostly ballet, but I get asked to help out the teachers on all the other styles too since I’ve tried a lot of different ones. I’m not that good though.” 

“Can’t be too bad if the teachers are getting you to assist. Here, try this,” Viktor offers a cookie fresh off the cooling rack through the pass-through, while biting into a second one himself. Yuuri takes it eagerly and they both spend a few seconds chewing, focusing on the crumbly texture and the mild coconut flavour coming through. 

“I like this one. It’s subtle.” 

“Mmm, it’s alright. It tastes like a more boring version of my lime-coconut cookies, though, so I think I won’t be making this recipe again,” Viktor licks some crumbs off his fingers and starts stacking the rest of the cookies into a container. Yuuri tears his eyes away from Viktor’s lips and tries to ask something intelligent. 

“You bake a lot. Are you a professional baker?”

“Heavens no!” Viktor laughs, and Yuuri melts a tiny bit at the sight of his smile. He made him smile! “I just enjoy it, and I’m pretty good at it so it’s fun. It’s also much cheaper and tastier to make a lot of this stuff at home than to buy it at cafes. And, it makes it easy to stay on your coworkers’ good side,” Viktor punctuates the last sentence with a wink, making Yuuri internally curse himself for struggling to control his blush. He thanks his lucky stars that Viktor isn’t actually his roommate, for all the time they spend together at home - he’s not sure he could handle it if Viktor was around constantly, possibly in various states of undress coming from the shower- no, wait, bad time to be thinking about that. Yuuri blushes harder and pretends to be very interested in finishing his cookie, trying to avoid Viktor’s questioning gaze.

~ * ~ * ~ 

Slowly, the routine changes. Yuuri sees Viktor in his kitchen more and more often, and steadily becomes bolder and more confident in their conversations. Viktor seems warmer and happier, too, and when a few months later Viktor asks if he can kiss Yuuri it’s not as much of a surprise as it could have been. Yuuri starts wondering if he’s in a dream again, but finds being able to finally touch those lips he’s been fantasising about for so long pretty grounding. It continues to ground him so much that he starts doing some pretty reckless things, like telling his family that he met someone, or buying rings for a man that appeared in his kitchen almost a year ago.

And now, they’re here. Viktor has dragged five full suitcases, and a dog crate full of Makka’s things, into the kitchen and is looking around himself in thought, one finger on his lips. 

Yuuri bites his own lip nervously. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Yuuri, I thought we’d agreed already. Do you not want me there?” 

“No, that’s not it! Of course I want you here, Viktor!” Yuuri drops his gaze to the floor, twisting the gleaming new ring on his finger. “I just don’t want you to regret this.” 

“Yuuri, listen to me. There’s nothing for me here except Makkachin, and she’s coming with me. There’s no way I would regret being with you. So this is entirely up to you, and whether you’re ok with this.” 

Yuuri meets Viktor’s intense stare, breathes in deeply and gives a sharp nod. “Hand over that suitcase.”

Viktor’s face glows with a beaming smile as he hoists over his possessions one by one, finally handing over a very confused Makkachin through the window before climbing up onto the counter himself. He kisses Yuuri’s offered hand before using it to help himself get down, clearly enjoying making Yuuri flustered yet again, and then holds his arms out when he’s steady on his feet inside Yuuri’s living room. Yuuri rushes forward and finally, _finally_ embraces Viktor. 

“Oh god you’re actually here.”

Viktor chuckles. “Yes. I’m here.”

**Author's Note:**

> And in conclusion, Yuuri's thirst for Viktor is strong enough to breach the barrier between dimensions. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [here](https://tasty-pile-of-glitter.tumblr.com/), or on Discord, screaming about ice boys forever.


End file.
